Lost
by TheNextFolchart
Summary: He wasn't sure how he'd managed it, but he was in a part of the castle he had never seen before. Which was weird. Because Crabbe had been going to this school for three years, and he should have known how to find Transfiguration. /Written for numerous challenges and competitions on HPFC


_Cinema Competition: The Breakfast Club - write about a friendship]_

_[Fanfiction Categories Competition: Forum - write about a friendship.]_

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Crabbe ran as fast as he could down the corridor. His cauldron banged against his knees and shins, but he didn't care, he was _so so late_ and McGonagall had threatened him with detention if he missed class one more time.

The problem was, Crabbe had no idea how to actually _get _to class. He wasn't sure how he'd managed it, but he was completely lost.

Which was weird. Because Crabbe had been attending this school for three years, and never before had he gotten lost on his way to Transfiguration.

It was probably because he didn't have Draco with him, Crabbe decided as he paused to catch his breath. (He accidentally leaned against a portrait of two witches, and they shrieked at him to get away, but he just sent them a rude hand gesture and continued to pant.) Draco was always with him. Draco was the only reason Crabbe ever knew what time it was, or which class he had next, or when dinner was being served, or what the password was to get into their Common Room. But Draco was up in the Hospital Wing now, getting his arm treated after a terrifying Hippogriff attack (it had scared Crabbe so much that he'd wet himself, but he'd never tell _anyone _about that), and so he was on his own.

Straightening up and redoubling his grip on his cauldron, Crabbe began to jog down the corridor again. He had a terrible suspicion that he was heading in the wrong direction, but the only other option was to turn around and go back the way he came, and he _knew _Transfiguration wasn't that way (didn't he?), because it was _Potions_ that was that way, down in the dungeons, where Snape was probably waiting for him so he could start class -

- and Crabbe screeched to a halt.

Because he wasn't late for Transfiguration, after all.

He was late for _Potions._

How could he have been so stupid? He'd talked to Draco _ten minutes ago_ in the Hospital Wing, and when Crabbe had gotten up to leave Draco had said, "Have fun in Potions." Never mind that - he had his bloody cauldron in his hand!

With a deep breath, Crabbe spun on his heel and bolted back up the corridor. Snape had never given him detention before, but then again, he'd never shown up this late to a Potions class. The cauldron collided with his knee, and Crabbe let out a howl of pain, but he didn't stop running, he had to make it, he was almost there, almost there, almost -

_Smack!_

Crabbe slammed head-first into a large body and fell to the floor. "Oi," he shouted, picking himself up and groping for his cauldron. "Watch it, you!"

"Crabbe?"

Crabbe looked up, rubbing his head. He could already feel a bump starting through his close-shaven hair, although that might have just been the shape of his skull. Who knew? "Goyle?" he said, jumping to his feet. "What are you doing here? Why aren't you in class?"

"I can't find it," Goyle admitted. "I've never been to the Hospital Wing before, and when I left after visiting Draco, I got myself horribly lost. . . ."

"So did I!" Crabbe grinned at his friend. "But we're together now, we'll be able to find Potions before class is over!"

Goyle shook his head. "Potions? No, Crabbe, we have Divination now."

"It's Potions," Crabbe insisted, but he wasn't so sure anymore. "Look, I've got my cauldron."

Goyle fished inside his bag and held up a giant glass orb. "I've got my crystal ball."

"Oh."

"Hmm."

"Goyle?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm scared."

Goyle scoffed and punched Crabbe in the shoulder. "Don't be a baby. I've found my way out of much more confusing places than this. We'll be alright."

"How? We don't even know which classroom we're supposed to be looking for."

"Divination," Goyle reminded him, tapping on the crystal ball.

"But why would I bring my cauldron to Divination?"

Goyle shrugged his huge, beefy shoulders. "I dunno, do I?" He leaned against the wall, looking thoughtful. Crabbe copied him.

"Hey!" shouted the inhabitant of the portrait Crabbe had accidentally leaned on. "Do you _mind_?"

"No," Crabbe said, looking at the witch in surprise. "Not at all."

The witch sighed. "Get _off of me_!"

"Oh." Crabbe straightened up. "Sorry." An idea struck him. "D'you know how to get to Transfiguration?"

"Divination, Crabbe," Goyle said.

"I'm telling you, Goyle, it's Potions!"

"Which one do you want?" the portrait asked. "Transfiguration, Divination, or Potions?"

"All three, I s'pose," Goyle said, looking at Crabbe with a shrug. "Can't hurt to know all the possibilities."

"Transfiguration is that way," the witch said, pointing down the corridor. "And then a left when you get to the door that's pretending to be a painting of a bowl of fruit. Don't go through the door," she added. "Just turn left when you see it. And after that, it's just two flights of stairs down, and a quick right turn at the portrait of Uric the Oddball."

"Got it," Crabbe said, picking up his cauldron and preparing to run, but Goyle grabbed him by the back of the robes.

"We aren't going to Transfiguration, Vincent," he said patiently. "We're going to Divination."

"Oh." But that wasn't right at all. "Potions!" Crabbe cried. He grabbed the portrait by its frame and began to shake. "Tell me how to get to Potions," he begged.

The witch looked a little miffed at being shaken, but she answered anyway. "Opposite direction from Transfiguration." She pointed again. "Staircase is just past the tapestry of Barnabus the Barmy. Five flights down brings you to the Great Hall, and then one more flight brings you to the dungeons. I assume you know where to go from there?"

"Yes," Goyle said, just as Crabbe said, "I don't think so, no."

"Divination," pleaded Goyle, and the witch explained the route up to the North Tower. "Right, come on, Crabbe," he said, starting down the corridor. "Off to Divination."

"We have Potions," Crabbe said. "I know we do. Zabini's my partner."

Goyle shook his head. "Zabini doesn't even have Potions with us."

"Yeah, he does," Crabbe said. "He's been making me do the work all year while he flirts with Parkinson. That's why we're both failing."

Goyle frowned. "Pansy isn't in our Potions class, either." He began to scratch his head. "Hang on . . . Crabbe . . . Now that I think about it, I don't think _you're _in our Potions class."

"What? Of course I am!"

"Then why are you paired with Zabini, instead of with me?"

"Because you're - _wait!_"

Goyle clapped him on the shoulder. "Because we're not in the same Potions class," he finished triumphantly. "You have Potions when I have Divination, and then it's _Transfiguration_ we have together."

"_Right!_" Crabbe couldn't get the grin off his face. "I have Potions! And you have Divination! Oh, Goyle, I'm so glad you were here to - "

Suddenly the hallways began to flood with people coming out of their lessons. Crabbe trailed off, his mouth hanging open. "We missed it," he whispered, dropping his cauldron with a _clang _that was drowned out by the other students talking and laughing. "We missed the lesson."

Goyle stooped to pick up the cauldron. He deposited his crystal ball inside and swung it up over his shoulder. "But now we've got Transfiguration," he said cheerfully, joining the throng of students and beckoning for his friend to follow him. "And that class, Vincent, we get to do together."


End file.
